The Ghost of Micromanaging Christmas
by CarolNJoy
Summary: The day of the Christmas Eve ball, Cogsworth struggles to be heard… and seen. Inspired by a B&S prompt. Post-curse.
1. The Day Before

**_A/N:_** _Hello, everyone! I know this is a bit after Christmas Day, but this idea came to me a little late, and the time to write it came soon after, as life would normally allow. This is a little experiment exploring and challenging Cogsworth's character, and I can't wait to delve a bit deeper in the next four chapters of this short story. I would love to hear what you guys think, and I definitely would appreciate feedback on this one! Thank you, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

 _Chapter One: The Day Before_

To the many, the anticipation for Christmas brings family and friends together to appreciate each other selflessly in honor of the birth of the prophet who grew to save his people from their sins.

To Cogsworth, it was an unending migraine while his nerves were torn to shreds.

"What—What on _earth?_ " The majordomo stood aghast at the empty three-story Christmas tree that stood at the center of the ballroom's mass of windows. "Where are the ornaments? The candles? _Tinsel?_ My goodness' gracious! _Angélique!_ "

He heard the sound of hurrying footsteps behind him as Angélique ran the distance. "I am… terribly sorry, monsieur," she apologized sincerely, clearly flustered and out-of-breath.

"What have you been _doing?_ " he questioned, shocked at this behavior coming from her, who had always been so diligent in her work.

She drew a sigh. "I was with… Fife."

"With-?" _Of course_. As she had approached him, he had watched her quickly straighten her blonde bob and periwinkle blue dress in a fashion that Cogsworth had seen Babette imitate on numerous accounts.

Now he couldn't tell if her cheeks were flushed from embarrassment or from her rendezvous.

Furrowing his brow at the thought, Cogsworth admonished sternly, "This is very unlike you, Miss Garnier."

Her shoulders visibly slumped. " _Je sais, je sais!_ Believe me, I am just as surprised as you are."

"You do realize Christmas Eve is tomorrow night!" he reminded. "The tree is the pinnacle! We can't have it bare for another evening! Have you even gathered others to assist you?"

"I will scour the château for help right now," Angélique assured, becoming determined. "The ballroom will be finished before the evening is out."

Cogsworth took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. " _Please_ ensure that it is done. _No more distractions_."

Angélique pursed her lips. "Oui, monsieur."

As she left the ballroom in a power walk, Cogsworth pinched the bridge of his nose. She had been off with _Fife,_ the conductor? Of all occasions to shirk from the tasks at hand, naturally a typically focused young woman would become distracted by the allure of romance around the grandest event of the year that they hosted.

He shook the thoughts away. _Pray the gardens are in a better state._

* * *

One step out of doors, and Cogsworth could see only the steps and a tiny portion of the path was shoveled.

"This is out _rageous,_ " he muttered with a shiver. He rubbed his forearms for warmth as he spotted the head gardener just sitting on a stone bench cleared of snow next to the steps, looking out over the gardens covered in white.

"Excuse me!" Cogsworth called to him pointedly over the bannister. "Might there be a reason for why the snow isn't cleared yet?"

The gardener stood in surprise as he glanced up, his face falling. "Oh, monsieur! I understand what this may look like—"

"Oh ho ho, yes, indeed," the majordomo interrupted, feeling a culprit on his hands as he walked down the steps to be at the gardener's level. "Now tell me, Florent, is this _exactly_ what it looks like?"

"Please, monsieur," Florent pleaded, shaken by Cogsworth's intimidation. "I began to shovel the paths just as you had asked, but the Master and Mistress Belle asked me not to until they were finished!"

"Wait, wait," Cogsworth stopped, completely thrown off by this explanation. "Did you say… the Master and Mistress told you _not_ to?"

"Oui, monsieur. They—"

"Well what could they be doing?!" Cogsworth demanded, absolutely baffled.

Florent pointed further out towards the west edge of the gardens. There, Adam, Belle, and Chip were in the process of building a snowman, but as they watched, Belle threw a snowball at Adam while his back was turned, catching him close to his neck. Chip joined in Belle's volley as Adam took cover behind a tree. The servants could hear their laughter from where they stood.

"They had taken a walk earlier," Florent explained, "but Chip soon came out and they have been in that spot of the gardens ever since. They have not told me I was permitted to return to work," he added as Cogsworth looked back at him with his mouth in a frown.

"No, no, that is fine," Cogsworth permitted calmly, though the irritation boiling in him was steadily growing. "But now resume shoveling the paths. Wait until the Master and Mistress Belle have left before doing the west end of the gardens."

"Oui, monsieur," Florent said with a nod, but he still seemed to feel guilty. "I am sorry for not taking more action."

Cogsworth sighed, his breath visibly evaporating into the freezing air. "It is not your fault. The Master's and Mistress' wishes can topple my own." He gave a curt, but not unfriendly nod to Florent. "Carry on."

* * *

Despite how fond he was of the Prince and Belle, Cogsworth couldn't help but think it rather rude on their part to keep some servants from going about their jobs the day before a major gala event. Why does he seem to be the only one that cares about the ball? He definitely would not be arranging it if it hadn't been upon Adam's request.

It was the first Christmas since the curse was broken, and one of the happy memories the Prince remembered from his youth was the ball his parents would throw on Christmas Eve. Truthfully, it had been about fifteen years, but Cogsworth could still remember the effort the servants had put into it, and the results had been very satisfactory. He even remembered their noble guests commenting on how "spectacular" their Christmas balls had been. Was he the only one?

Cogsworth could feel his heart pound as he thought of the deadline and all of the hindrances that had occurred that day. He made his way to the drawing room where Mrs. Potts always had her mid-afternoon tea break.

Since returning from the state of a mantel clock, he had noticed how much more he needed to relax, despite scuffing at the suggestion from Lumière, who never seemed to have said so out of concern. He had mused the idea of an early retirement before, but it seemed impossible. How could anyone run this household as firmly and in as organized a manner as he? Until that day came, Cogsworth couldn't abandon everyone here. He was much too attached to them to leave them without proper care in good conscience.

But the job had affected his health. Mrs. Potts was certain he had high blood pressure, and she had recommended he not let the little things get to him. Since everyone who knew him agreed that it was far beyond his capacity to do so, Mrs. Potts then offered her services as someone he could vent to. Once he began, Cogsworth realized he did actually feel better after releasing his frustrations regularly. He especially felt comfortable in the company of Mrs. Potts, whom he had known the longest of the staff there. It was also hard not to feel at ease around her, when she was such a motherly and understanding figure.

Without thinking much of it, Cogsworth gave two brief knocks before opening the door to the servants' drawing room. Instead of a cheerful greeting from the housekeeper, he caught Mrs. Potts sitting on the chaise and holding hands with Maurice, their heads bowed in an intimate discussion.

Cogsworth immediately felt his stomach recede as Mrs. Potts' eyes fell on him.

"Charles!" she cried, dropping Maurice's hand in surprise while Belle's father curiously glanced behind him at the visitor.

"I'm—I'm terribly sorry to have intruded," Cogsworth stuttered quietly. "Excuse me."

He just as quickly shut the door, feeling his heart palpitate even worse than before. _How mortifying!_ he thought in horror. _Of all the confounded times to not wait for consent!_

This was all a disaster! They were behind schedule on the decorations and grounds-keeping, and he could not even properly complain about it for five minutes so he could carry about his day without agonizing over it.

Panic began to rise in him, and that only irritated and upset him more. Well, he had to have the reassurance that at least _something_ was done, and the only thing left was the food.

 _Perhaps I could—_

Cogsworth sighed at the thought. Expressing his frustration to Lumière was never an ideal option, especially when that man hardly ever took anything seriously. The stick of wax could always find an excuse to incessantly tease him about his problems.

However, the majordomo could not deny though that there have been moments where Lumière had been perhaps the only person to calm him down. The maître d' could tell when Cogsworth had an issue troubling him that wasn't related to the stress of his work.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures,_ Cogsworth resigned, before heading off to hit two birds with one stone.

* * *

At the kitchen doors, Cogsworth swung one in as he began, "Lumière, please tell me that the food preparations are—"

He froze and cringed at the sight of the maître d' entangled in the embrace of his paramour, Babette.

Cogsworth's face flushed red. " _Lumière!_ "

The immersed couple jumped at the intrusion. As she gripped her heart from the shock, Babette's cheeks grew rosy at realizing Cogsworth's presence. Lumière, on the other hand, had refused to become embarrassed from being caught in the act, as it happened rather often, even when Cogsworth was the one who unfortunately stumbled upon them.

But from the expression on Cogsworth's face, Lumière knew it was not a laughing matter, as he would normally remark jokingly on the situation.

Calmly, he tried to pacify by saying, "Cogsworth, we have everything we need prepared for tomorrow evening—"

"Wonderful, _perfect_ ," Cogsworth snapped, his self-control on the verge of abandon. "That is all I wished to know. Not when a person's limbs become indiscernible from the other's!"

Lumière's jaw dropped, struck dumb by this uncharacteristic reply, while Babette, becoming more mortified by the second, turned away to hide her face from the majordomo.

Instantly sensing something amiss, Lumière became concerned. "What is wrong, _mon ami_? Is it the stress of the ball?"

"The ball, the snow, the _tree!_ " Cogsworth listed furiously. " _Nothing_ is as it should be at this moment in time! And all anyone can do…" _is make goo-goo eyes at each other!_ he wanted to cry, but he couldn't. He wouldn't mention it. At least he had enough discretion to not make it any worse.

Lumière waited, clearly worried. "'All anyone can do…' is what?" he prompted.

Cogsworth pursed his lips, now sealed like a tomb. He sighed as he felt his fury begin to drain from him. "Nothing that you should concern yourself with."

As Lumière took his comment as a slight, Cogsworth added flatly, "If anyone is even faintly curious of my whereabouts, tell them I've decided to turn in early."

Before either of them could say another word, even if they did, Cogsworth made sure he was out of ears' reach.

* * *

No one passed him on his way to his quarters. It was just as well. He couldn't take another confrontation with even the meekest of servants.

Cogsworth went straight toward the cabinet in his vanity, pulling out a glass and his bottle of Armagnac brandy. It was so rare that he felt the urge to calm his nerves with strong alcohol, but this day had been incredibly trying indeed.

He had spoken very much out of turn. How had those words even escaped him? _Not when a person's limbs become indiscernible…_ The utter audacity! What had even caused such a response in him? By now, he should be immune to Lumière and Babette's displays of affection, as with anyone, so why was he so bothered now?

It could be stress. It really could. He felt so unprepared for the cavalcade of hindrances that he had been smacked with. It seemed the ball was no one else's concern but his own, that it was not held to the same importance.

But that was the problem. Something else was deemed more important, something he did not have the luxury to enjoy.

 _Romance._

Cogsworth tensed at the word, and drank another gulp of his brandy. He did not want to admit it, but it was true, most definitely: Romance had proved to be the worst of distractions. It had intervened at every turn that day to the last degree.

As much as the staff might have believed, he was not devoid of feeling. He had danced in an affair very briefly, but it was not to be. The love and loyalty to his queen, Adam's mother—may she rest in peace—had exceeded the possibility of romance. The decision had been painful, but Queen Beatrice had needed him to follow her across the channel when she had married the Prince's father, Vincent. He did not regret his choice in the slightest.

 _Don't I?_

With a large sip of brandy, Cogsworth stared out of his window at the stars above, a clear winter night. His eyes narrowed.

No, he didn't regret following his monarch's needs over his uncertain love for another, but…

The images of the day flashed across his vision: Belle and Adam laughing together, absolutely carefree; Lumière and Babette wrapped in each other almost inseparably; Mrs. Potts and Maurice holding hands on the chaise while the hearth crackled. A pang stabbed through his gut, a pang of—

No. _Jealousy?_

 _No, no it couldn't be,_ he tried to assure himself. _That would be absurd! Laughable, really. Me, jealous._

But he couldn't shake it, and it left him feeling uneasy.

It was preposterous! He had done so well on his own, without romantic companionship, for over twenty years, and he hadn't given it a second thought.

 _I don't need it,_ Cogsworth concluded. _It is merely a distraction and a hindrance, and others would do well to follow my example! Maybe then things would get done around here!_

He spun away from the window to prepare for bed, but not before a fleeting glimpse of a star streaked across the velvety black sky.


	2. The Day of

_Chapter Two: The Day of_

As the sun just started to peek the tops of the evergreen trees surrounding the lands of the château, Cogsworth was straightening the lapels on his maroon tailcoat before striding out the door of his room, his mind already sharpened for the day.

In his study on the floor below, he would go over his daily paperwork first thing in the morning. As majordomo, he handled all of the papers that had accumulated over the day before, which were mostly trivial documents and letters that needed to be addressed and replied to. But they were "trivial" only because the Prince was not obligated to give them his attention. Cogsworth knew what he was doing, and Adam had learned that Cogsworth was probably more capable of speaking for the Crown than _he_ ever could, at least in written correspondences.

Setting his quill in its well as he assessed his current handiwork, Cogsworth heard three knocks on the door. "Come in," he consented without averting his gaze from the letter on his desk.

There was a moment of hesitation, but the door opened, and as he had expected, Mrs. Potts came in with a cup of earl grey tea and a small plate of pastry. That day it smelled of cranberry scones, a preference of his.

"Cogsworth?" the housekeeper called.

"Yes, Mrs. Potts, thank you," he said sincerely though he was still distracted. "You may set it on my desk."

A moment went by and his tea and scones did not appear out of his peripherals. Cogsworth looked up to find Mrs. Potts looking about the room with a confused and pondering expression on her features.

"Mrs. Potts?" he tentatively asked.

"Hmm, very strange," she murmured.

"'Strange'? What's the trouble?" Cogsworth questioned, becoming as confused as she appeared, yet hoping it wasn't another impending disaster.

She stared at him, clearly in thought. A resolution seemed to come to her mind, and she shrugged off her confusion. She took a step towards the door, but then looked back at the desk.

"Are you…?" he began to ask, but he was all too fascinated as he watched her set the plate on his desk, and then place the cloth napkin that was on her arm delicately over the pastries so they could maintain their warmth. She walked out of the study without another word, taking the tea with her, and shut the door.

Staring at where she left, Cogsworth sat stiffly in his armchair for a minute with a look on his face that would undoubtedly have caused some teasing on Lumière's behalf.

 _Hm,_ he finally thought. _Very odd. Very odd, indeed._

He took the napkin from the plate and found the smell of the scones enticing. As he reached for one though, he thought disappointedly, _Scones never go down half as well without tea. Why would she keep my tea?_

Cogsworth had a mind to follow Mrs. Potts and request his tea personally, but the fact of this tea-less circumstance left him incredibly puzzled. Thinking more on it, she had never looked him in the eye. Not once, at least from what he had seen. When he had assumed she was looking at him, she had been staring more at… his stomach.

Well, perhaps not his stomach, but his abdomen. And she had set the scones down with the napkin over them as though they were not going to be touched for a while, when he hardly ever waited a moment after her departure before he had taken a warm, flaky bite of one. He _knew_ she knew that.

 _Oh, this is taking too much of my time!_ Cogsworth resolved with a shake of his head. He still had a few more letters to write for, and it was almost ten o'clock. There was so much to be checked and finished before the guests arrived, and time simply could not be wasted.

He put thoughts of Mrs. Potts' strange behavior aside with a bit of difficulty before focusing once again on the parchment in front of him.

 _I still wish I had my tea…_

* * *

With the last document sealed with the Prince's crest, he set the stack of letters by the stablemaster's study to be delivered the next morning before making his way to the ballroom. If it was not done the moment he set foot in it…

Oh, _let us hope to_ hope _for all our sakes that it is_ nothing _but—_

One polished shoe on the glimmering marble floor, and Cogsworth was greeted by the shine and sparkle of the three-story Christmas tree at the back-center of the ballroom.

 _Sublime_ , Cogsworth finished his thought with relief.

No one else was present in the room, but upon further inspection of it at every angle, the wreaths and garlands draping every column and arm on the crystal chandelier were wrapped around them at even intervals, the color and shape proportions of the ornament placement on the tree was aesthetically pleasing, the tinsel did not outdo the candles when it caught the light, and the star on top was perfectly center, not leaning or turned any other way but up and forward.

On his way to check the gardens, he made a mental note to express his satisfaction to Angélique the next time he saw her.

Cogsworth passed through the dining room, which was also tastefully decorated for that night, but his calming solitude unfortunately came to an end.

A light giggle interrupted his thoughts. "Non, _non_ , stop, Lumière! The last thing I want is to risk a repeat of last night."

"Oh, come now, you cannot still be worrying over it. It is not as if Cogsworth saw anything _new_."

"I know, it was just… the _way_ it happened. He looked so furious. Oh, I can feel the embarrassment all over again."

"I can tell," the maître d' said with a sultry tone. "You are starting to blush."

As Cogsworth spotted them at the head of the table, Lumière began kissing Babette's neck, who was sitting on his lap. The mere sound of their interaction felt like nails on a blackboard to Cogsworth's ears.

Babette released another playful laugh when Cogsworth tried to get their attention with his signature " _Ahem_."

" _Arrêtez_ , I am being serious!" Babette maintained, gently pushing Lumière away.

"And I am not?"

The majordomo frowned. He was standing right _there_. Babette was completely capable of noticing him, and yet neither of them had given even the smallest indication at his call or presence.

" _A-HEM,_ " he repeated.

"You are the one who is laughing, _ma chère_ , not me," Lumière pointed out in a voice that even Cogsworth could tell was with a smirk. "So tell me, who of us is being the more serious?"

Babette scowled at him. "You are infuriating."

"You might as well have admitted defeat with those words!" he teased.

Quickly losing his patience, Cogsworth announced clearly, "Both of you, there is still work to be done, so I recommend you attend to it immediately."

"Interesting. I didn't know it was a contest!" Babette bantered, her eyes on Lumière alone. "Even if I did, have you not yet learned that when a woman loses, you never mention it to her?"

"Isn't honesty a virtue, especially between a man and a woman?" Lumière challenged.

"That is true." Her voice hushed to a purr. "But neither of us are very virtuous. Are we?"

Pleasantly surprised, Lumière chuckled. "Touché, _chérie_ ," he murmured before Babette leaned in for a long kiss, their grips tightening on each other.

With a vehement harrumph, Cogsworth stomped away and continued on to his original destination while shaking off the distasteful image.

* * *

The _nerve_! The plain, audacious _nerve_! _Ignoring_ him while he stood there and spoke to them directly! Perhaps this kind of behavior he could expect from Lumière, but Babette? Cogsworth had quickly figured out that she was the more sensible of the pair, and she had _completely_ disregarded him! Going so far as to escalate her banter to an embrace right in front of him!

It was even strange that Lumière had not even commented on his presence. When Cogsworth would make demands of him, on occasion, the maître d' would feign having felt an ice cold breeze, or having heard a meticulous ticking sound as another method of riling Cogsworth up. But this time, he didn't even go to the length of saying anything at all.

Despite his extreme dislike of being teased, he knew Lumière never did it out of malice. They had been through enough where Cogsworth would merely give an obvious eye-roll in reply to one of Lumière's jests. He also never went so far as to try and make Cogsworth feel inferior.

But _this_ behavior! It was not only unlike him— _both_ of them—but it was unprofessional to the most extreme and inexcusably _rude_.

Though Cogsworth was fuming, he felt like he had been knocked off kilter he was so flabbergasted. He couldn't recall when he had been so flawlessly ignored in all his life.

Walking out into the cold, clear afternoon, Cogsworth assessed the gardens from the perch of the stone staircase. The paths between the parterres had been shoveled and cleared of snow, and the gardeners were placing lanterns along the paths to be lit later on that evening.

Spotting Florent aligning lanterns on a nearby fountain, Cogsworth made his way through the snow-dusted parterres, glancing around more closely to make sure he didn't happen to miss any unsightly piles shoved into the flowerbeds. "Good afternoon, Florent. I see the gardens are coming along quite nicely. A job well done."

Expecting an immediate expression of gratitude, Cogsworth was peeved to not hear anything after a moment or two. He stared at the gardener, who was whistling a merry Christmas tune.

"Florent," he addressed as frigidly as the air. The majordomo could then recognize the tune as "March of the Kings."

Taking a step back, Florent paused his whistling as he looked over the fountain.

" _Excuse_ me," Cogsworth called, his voice rising.

With a nod of satisfaction, Florent gathered the remaining lanterns by their rings onto his arms and went on his way to the next fountain, resuming where he left off in the carol.

Cogsworth watched him leave with jaw hanging, speechless and agog.

 _Is this… is this some kind of_ joke?

As the idea took seed, Cogsworth's teeth clenched. Is that what everyone here was doing? Carrying out an absurd _prank_?!

 _Intolerable!_ he cried in his mind. _Absolutely intolerable, and in excruciatingly bad taste!_

The Master and Mistress might not be aware of the staff's cruelty. Cogsworth _had_ to inform them at once!

* * *

 _What a day of days! What timing!_ Cogsworth chastised as he strode to the private dining room. _I will make sure the ones who thought to execute such a terrible prank be quickly put into place. This will_ not be tolerated!

He was red-faced by the time he approached Adam and Belle enjoying their lunch. Doing his best to regain his composure, Cogsworth took a deep breath before greeting them formally with a humble bow. "Master, Mistress, I am so sorry to disturb you during your meal, but this is a matter that unfortunately cannot wait to be brought to your attention."

His heart steadily dropped as he watched them continue sipping their soup, as if he hadn't even spoken.

"Master?" Cogsworth asked, panic causing a falsetto to creep into his voice. He dared to come closer. "Master Adam!"

The Prince looked up, but to across from him. "Belle?"

She met his eyes while Cogsworth observed them like a tennis match. "Yes?"

Adam hesitated, then returned to his soup with a wry smile. "Never mind."

Belle leaned forward, grinning knowingly. "What is it?"

Cogsworth spoke again, though he was starting to shake. "M—Mistress Belle?"

The Prince spooned at his soup, careful with his words. "I was just… going to ask if… you think about what everyone is getting you for Christmas."

Dimples appeared on Belle's cheeks. "I do sometimes. Why, do you?"

Cogsworth gripped his wig. _What_ is this?! _How can they not hear me?!_

Adam shrugged, but his shoulders seemed to relax a bit. "I used to, more than I do now. But, I have to say I'm still a little curious."

Despite being rather fearful of the consequences, Cogsworth tried waving his hand between them as they chatted.

"I am too, since you mention it. I've always become excited about Christmas Day, even when it was just me and Papa," Belle replied. "I admit, I used to love opening presents, but now I look forward to seeing everyone else's reactions to the presents I give them."

"I can't wait to see you open what I got you," Adam said, like he was withholding a great secret.

After a near minute of frantically waving his hands in front of their faces, Cogsworth's arms felt like limp noodles. _None of it is working!_

Belle raised an eyebrow, acting as equally mysterious. "You're going to love my present for you, too."

Adam moved his hand to cover hers. "I know I will, even though you didn't have to get me anything."

Another idea crossed Cogsworth's mind, but it was against his own code. How could he possibly risk _touching_ them? He thought it inappropriate and improper to dare touch his superiors without permission. But what other option did he have?

Belle blushed, taking Adam's hand. "Of _course_ I had to get you something! I get everyone I'm grateful to have in my life a gift."

Cogsworth stared at the Prince's shoulder, his hand poised to tap it. _Do_ not _think twice, old man!_ he told himself. _Just do it!_

He shut his eyes and quickly gave Adam's shoulder two taps.

But, Cogsworth… didn't feel his hand hit anything. He opened his eyes to see if it made any difference.

"And…" Belle continued sincerely, "I am grateful to have you in my life the most."

Adam intertwined his fingers in hers, his voice soft. "I feel the same about you."

Cogsworth kept his eyes open this time and dared himself to try again. He watched his hand reach toward Adam's shoulder—

And go _through it_.

" _AHHHH!_ " he screamed, unheard by the royal couple, before he ran out of the room.

He stopped in the corridor, panting, as he stared at his hands. They went _through_ his _shoulder_! Like some sort of spirit!

 _Spirit?!_

 _Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. I couldn't be, I just_ couldn't _be!_ He could hardly bare to think the "d" word.

There was only one way to confirm it, and that was to see if he had ever truly awoken.

Fear kept a firm hold on him as he drifted down the hall towards his quarters. If it was all true, then what would happen to this household and its inhabitants?

 _Keep your wits about you,_ Cogsworth encouraged. _Let's cross that bridge when we come to it… if it_ is _true… Dear, dear me._


	3. Hours Before

_Chapter Three: Hours Before_

Arriving at his bedroom door, Cogsworth reached for the knob, but could not find it in himself to grasp it. Would he really find his lifeless body behind it? He tried to remember sitting up in bed, rolling back the sheets, and pushing himself off the mattress, but in his panic, he could not for the life of him recall! Or should it be "the death of him" now?

 _Stop it!_ he chastised. _We have yet to reach a conclusion on this matter, and as head of the household, we must first see for ourselves if there is a problem that needs our attention._

Tightening his resolve, he grabbed the knob and turned it before he could convince himself out of it.

Light shined through the windows, their curtains having been pulled back by him that morning. And on the bed was—

Cogsworth felt his torso practically deflate.

Nothing.

 _Oh good,_ he thought with a bit of a smile, however brief. _But this does not explain everything._

He went down the list of symptoms again: No one could hear him, no one could see him, no one could touch him and vice versa… and he was not dead. With all logical explanations tried, this could only be the result of…

Cogsworth groaned. "Magic," he muttered like a curse.

He looked about the room for any sign of an enchantress. "What, no warning, no _test_ , Miss Sorceress?" he called facetiously, but was becoming more panicked by the minute. "Will I remain invisible and inaudible for a number of irretrievable years? I don't see a _rose_ anywhere, do you?!"

The room did not deign to reply to his interrogations. Feeling his heart race from his exertions, he sat down on the end of the bed.

 _Perfect, just perfect,_ he bitterly mumbled in his mind as he rubbed his eyes. _Impeccable timing! Now how was anything supposed to get done?_

* * *

After the insistent attempts to help get everything in order for the ball that night, the household's staff had banished the Prince and his wife to their library, much to Belle's chagrin, who was finding it hard to adjust to remaining idle with company on the way. However, the servants were even more insistent that the couple relax and enjoy themselves before the onslaught of nobility arrived at their double doors.

Soon after, they were invested in a book they were reading together by the fireplace, so much that Belle and Adam hardly noticed the library doors opening. It was the sound of approaching footsteps that caused them to look up. Seeing Mrs. Potts with a worried expression on her aging features, they immediately stood and met her halfway.

"Is something wrong?" Belle inquired with concern.

"Have either of you seen Cogsworth?" Mrs. Potts asked eagerly.

The Prince and Belle exchanged glances as the answer dawned on them. "You haven't seen him either?" Adam replied with surprise.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Potts murmured. "I was so hoping you had at least come across him."

"When did you see him last?" Belle questioned.

"I haven't seen him since last night," the housekeeper answered. Thankfully, the couple was too distracted to notice a bit of blush come to her cheeks.

Adam furrowed his brow as Belle prompted, "Who else have you asked?"

"Anyone I came across!" Mrs. Potts looked off as she named them. "Angélique, Babette, Veronique, Florent, your father, Fife—"

"What about Lumière?" Adam suggested.

"He's been cooped up in the kitchens. I was trying not to interrupt their preparations," she explained.

"I think we might have to," the young Prince conceded.

* * *

The three of them hurried to the kitchen, hoping Cogsworth would wander by them before they got there, but they had no such luck.

The sounds of dishes, utensils, pots, and pans tinkling together came from behind the kitchen doors. Adam swung one open.

"Lumière!"

The maître d' seemed to come out of a focus as he found the Prince by the entrance. He raised a questioning eyebrow as Adam waved a hand for him to come over. Lumière had to dodge through the throng of chefs before he could make it to them.

His eyes were full of confusion as he swept them over the trio gathered. "I do not wish to be impertinent, Master, but this is not a very convenient time."

"I know," Adam agreed. "And we're sorry to have to pull you from the kitchen, but we need to ask: Have you seen Cogsworth today?"

Lumière's eyes widened at question. "Non, not at all. I thought he has been in his study this entire time."

"He wasn't even there this morning when I brought up his breakfast," Mrs. Potts clarified, her concern only growing at Lumière's response.

"That is very strange," the maître d' commented with a shake of his head. "If I know anything about him, it is that he is the closest to a creature of habit as anyone I have met."

"My thoughts exactly!" Mrs. Potts agreed wholeheartedly. "He has started his day going over papers in his study every morning without fail for over twenty years."

"Even for some time _during_ the curse," Lumière had to add.

"It just makes me think something's happened." Mrs. Potts brought her hand to her mouth, as her eyes began to shine. Belle put an arm around her in an attempt at comfort.

Lumière sighed. "I am not sure if this is of any use, but… he _did_ seem upset over something that happened yesterday. It may have been about the ball, but I believe it might have been about something else." He shrugged helplessly. "He did not say what, however."

"Do you think he could have… _left_ the castle because he was upset?" Belle wondered. "Even just to town?"

"I cannot imagine that he would," Lumière replied honestly. "Normally he would wallow in his room or study until he felt better, and he is not one to drown his sorrows at the nearest watering hole."

"Even though it's unlikely, maybe it's where we can start," Adam determined. "We can send a messenger out there to ask if anyone's seen him." He breathed out through his nose, pursing his lips. "I wish we could go ourselves."

"You must stay here," Lumière emphasized while Mrs. Potts nodded. "Let us take care of the search."

"Speaking of which, you two should start getting ready," the housekeeper reminded, having successfully composed herself. "I'll make sure someone goes out to town as soon as they can."

"Thank you," Belle said, though she was wishing the same as her husband. "Let us know of anything you find."

"Of course," Mrs. Potts assured with a nod.

Adam appeared unsatisfied, but Belle gently took his hand for him to follow.

After they had gone, Lumière glanced worriedly at Mrs. Potts. "This is very unlike him."

"That is what has me concerned. I can hardly believe he ran off without saying a word!"

Lumière hesitated, wanting to actively help in finding his friend, but resigned, "I should get back to work." He placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Cogsworth will turn up. He only has so much capacity for surprises."

Mrs. Potts smiled gratefully. "I certainly hope you're right."

* * *

Though he was useless in his current invisible state, Cogsworth could not keep himself in his quarters while the ball went on without him. He had to make sure things went well, even if he wouldn't be able to fix anything that happened to go awry.

 _Don't think about that,_ he warned himself. _This is not the time to think worst case scenario._ He took a deep breath, the only way of calming himself down until normalcy returned.

He checked the guest rooms in the East Wing, which were being occupied for the night. A few maids were just finishing up their cleaning and putting fresh sheets in them. He found nothing to really complain about there, so he continued on.

Walking through the dining room again, the decorations had been tweaked, but improved. The candles and holly along the dining table runner were so artfully placed, it was a pleasure to continue looking at it. _From Angélique's hand, most likely_ , Cogsworth noted. _I must certainly give her my praise at the earliest opportunity._

The chorus of silver and copperware greeted his ears upon passing by the kitchen doors, and he came to a halt. What if he tried moving objects while others were around? He had been able to write all of those replies with his quill that morning like he hadn't been the wiser. Was that ability in fact conditional? If it wasn't, this could solve his dilemma in communication.

Cogsworth had to give it a shot. He brought himself right before the doors as though prepping himself for a run. He was going to walk through those doors like he would any other day.

With another deep, lung-filling breath to prepare, he held out a hand and strode through the swinging doors.

That is, the literal meaning of the word, "through".

Of _course,_ Cogsworth thought sourly as the chefs walked by him without even a flicker of a glance. _I knew I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. How dare I assume a witch doesn't consider loopholes._

Before he left, he observed the kitchen staff for a moment with Lumière orchestrating the kitchen with all the efficiency that he had come to expect from him. Cogsworth could trust no issues to arise from there, but he couldn't have Lumière believing that; he had enough of an ego already.

He turned and tried to walk through the door again out of habit, but only waltzed straight through the wood.

 _I will probably never become accustomed to that… Hopefully, I won't have to._

Since he had not seen the ballroom in a few hours, Cogsworth went to have another look, but only found it as sublime as before.

He evaluated the gardens, which were being lit up by the gardeners as they went from lantern to lantern. It was a very stunning view from the back doors.

 _Perhaps the foyer needs to be examined_.

The grand foyer was spotless and glistening, with carpet flowing directly to the ballroom, and the parlor room off of it was made into a makeshift coatroom with racks lining the walls and center of the floor.

What else was there? Cogsworth stepped back into the foyer as he considered his mental list. Since he was always restless before an event like this, he went to check the guest rooms again to make sure they were finished.

As he double- and triple-checked the various areas of the château for cleanliness, appearance, and organization, he found he was becoming impressed by his staff. This all had been correctly done without his meticulous supervision and consistent reminders of expectations. They must have remembered his critiques from all those years ago.

 _Well, I would like to presume they would have_ , Cogsworth had to comment. _Repetition is the key to memorization._ Still, that showed a level of caring and pride in their work that he must have had a hand in instilling, and he couldn't help but be touched.

 _To be completely impartial, there are some minor details I would have recommended be fixed, but… overall, it is a job well-done, and one to take pride in._

However, it did make him wonder: Was all of his micromanaging really as necessary as he had thought? Perhaps he could ease up just a bit, such as correcting tasks and methods when or soon after they occur instead of correcting the mistakes he only predicted.

After letting the idea broil for a minute or two, Cogsworth decided it was a positive change. It might even be better for his health, too.

 _As of now, let us hope it can still make a considerable difference._

Not only that, but it made him think that maybe he had done his job, teaching them all how to properly carry out their duties while putting their hearts into them. Could he truly and seriously consider his retirement? Maybe he didn't have to find a replacement after all.

Cogsworth had expected to feel relieved and happy coming to that conclusion, but the thought was, in reality, quite depressing. It made him feel like he was not even needed.

 _No. No. No. I know for a fact that I have been vital to this household's longevity,_ he argued.

If he left, was he even going to be missed?

 _What preposterous thoughts are these?!_ Cogsworth shook his head almost in an attempt to chase the poisonous thoughts away. _I have nothing to consider but the ball. Whether or not I can retire and everyone's feelings on that matter are completely irrelevant._

He convinced himself of this, but the nagging sense of something significant coming to an end stayed with him.


	4. Christmas Eve

_Chapter Four: Christmas Eve_

Right before the clock hit six, Cogsworth came down to the foyer and went to the window to see the turnout. Carriages lined the drive, and it seemed their occupants were waiting for the enormous double doors to open before they braved the short trip up the stairs in the cold.

The majordomo looked back at the foyer, and frowned. Valets should be at attendance by now, and yet the foyer was empty. He glanced at his pocket watch: six o' clock.

His heart clenched. _Oh, no no no, where_ are _they?!_

In Cogsworth's eyes, punctuality was a virtue that could never be compromised, especially in such a prestigious setting as a provincial prince's château. It exemplified courtesy, professionalism, and reciprocal respect, all of which are vital in a host-guest relationship among nobility. If too early or too late, the balance between Prince Adam and his subjects and contemporaries could be threatened.

Why was Cogsworth the only one to grasp this line of common sense?

He ran as fast as he could to the ballroom to search for the cause, but he soon stumbled on Mrs. Potts entering the foyer.

"Oh thank heavens!" Cogsworth cried with relief. Though he knew he couldn't be heard, he said to her, "Do you see here? No valets! Were they not assigned?"

"Where are the…?" Mrs. Potts began, but the look of horror confirmed Cogsworth's fears.

"Oh I knew this was all too good to be true!" he mourned. "To actually have imagined it going off without a single hitch; what on _earth_ was I thinking?"

As she picked up her skirt to hurry back, Cogsworth followed. "I hope you're going to the kitchens. We can sacrifice a few servers for now until all of the guests are safely inside."

Indeed, Mrs. Potts was taking the way to the kitchens. When they reached the doors in the dining room, Cogsworth praised, "I shouldn't have doubted you for a second, Margaret! Marvelous decision!"

He was on her tail as she pushed through the kitchen doors, mostly so as not to experience his current ghostly talents. But at one glance, Cogsworth gasped. "Where are the servers?!"

The majority of the maids doubled as servers during meals and galas, and none were present. Granted, they were not required to be there for another half-hour, but Cogsworth had always reminded them to be at hand when the guests started arriving, just in case.

"That is just like them not to take my recommendations seriously!" Cogsworth fumed as Mrs. Potts wove through the chefs to the island where Lumière stood.

"Lumière, we need valets in the foyer, immediately!" she reported, cutting straight to the point. "We can't leave our guests out in the cold for long."

Lumière looked as shocked as Mrs. Potts had. "We did not assign the valets?" Thinking quickly, his brow creased before he said, "I will help you bring the guests in."

"But what about the maids?" Mrs. Potts asked as Babette came over to investigate.

"The maids are still upstairs," she replied automatically.

"We don't have the time to chase after them either," Lumière added.

"Do we need them? I can fetch them myself," Babette offered with slight uncertainty, clearly unaware of the context.

"We need you more as a valet," he gently corrected.

Babette became bewildered. "Valet? Oh, _mon Dieu_ , do not tell me…" she groaned knowingly.

"I will round up a few of the chefs and meet you both out front," Lumière announced before the women rushed back outside.

"The chefs?" Cogsworth repeated uncertainly as he watched the maître d' call upon half of them before they began taking off their aprons. "But what about the food?"

Cogsworth appreciated Lumière taking the initiative in leadership in such a dire situation, but he could not see how five chefs could continue to maintain dozens of pots of cooking food all on their own. _His faith better be placed in the right people._

The majordomo followed the girls back to the foyer as he pulled out his pocket watch. As Babette and Mrs. Potts opened the doors, the clock read six-fourteen.

He felt faint at the sight, and such a wave of shame came over him that in that moment he was actually glad no one could witness his failing.

Feeling his legs growing weak, Cogsworth gripped the railing of the grand staircase and lowered himself to the bottom stair. _If only I wasn't in this ridiculous state…_ He rubbed his temples as he tried to soothe himself. _I am getting much too old for this._

But he was never one to give up, even when he became particularly overwhelmed. In this case, the ball would go on without him either way, and though it would most likely be painful to be stuck observing, he cared too much about the outcome of this event to simply hide himself away.

After he took a few moments to mourn morosely over his circumstance, he was able to regain his focus. He followed the various counts, marquises, dukes, and their wives to the ballroom to make sure the Prince and Belle were doing well at the entrance playing the host and hostess. Most of the guests present had attended their wedding reception, which had been the first time Belle had been introduced to them. Adam had supposedly met them before, but only when he was very young, which some always loved reminding him about. Belle was better at remembering names than him, but her memory wasn't perfect. Cogsworth would have normally reminded him to go over the guest list beforehand, and the majordomo would have hoped Adam had taken the liberty of reinforcing his memory on his own.

However, this was not to have been; Cogsworth watched Adam embarrassingly call the Count of Marsan the Count of Maurepas instead.

"'Maurepas'?" the Count of Marsan sneered with ill-concealed offense. "I am of House Lorraine, son of the Prince of Pons. I am not to be confused with that washed-up exile, if you do not mind… Your Highness."

Adam cleared his throat, hoping his annoyance wasn't as obvious. "Of course, monsieur, my mistake."

"Merry Christmas," Belle imparted pleasantly.

The count inclined his head while his wife curtsied respectfully, but his peeved expression still lingered as they joined the gaggles of chatting nobility.

Turning his head so only Belle could hear, the Prince mumbled through his teeth. "If I get corrected by another snobby what's-his-name…"

Belle smiled empathetically, rubbing his back. "You're doing fine," she murmured back. "We can get through a few more."

Adam sighed through his nose, the soothing motion of her hand on his back easing the tension in his body. Letting her words reassure him, he managed a smile for the next couple to approach them.

 _Well… it could be worse,_ Cogsworth reasoned, thinking of the Master's infamous temper. But he was doing extraordinarily well in hiding his frustration, and the majordomo would wager to guess that Belle was the main reason he was keeping himself so calm and collected. _What a blessing, that girl._

His appreciation was short-lived as he suddenly detected a faint scent of… something. Something _off_.

"Is that…" he wondered aloud, sniffing again. "Is that _burning?_ "

 _The kitchens._

"Oh dear, _oh_ dear. _Lumière?_ " Cogsworth called fearfully. He stumbled through the crowd as he tried to hurry back to the foyer, incidentally passing through a few of the guests like an apparition. Even this could hardly phase him as he sprinted to Lumière, who was following the guests into the ballroom at a most leisurely pace with Babette on his arm, Mrs. Potts, and the remainder of the cooks.

Cogsworth screeched to a halt and walked astride them, glaring at the maître d' and his staff as they chatted in good spirits. "Why are none of you hurrying back to the kitchens? You can all carouse later, when the food is being served, and preferably not _burnt!_ "

But that was the problem: they hadn't detected the smell yet. Cogsworth had a thought to run there himself, but just as quickly turned the suggestion away. His nerves couldn't handle the mere smell of it, much less the sight of frantic cooks trying to salvage dinner.

Finally, as the group came to the ballroom's entrance, the majordomo saw Lumière stop dead, his face blanching to the color of wax.

"Babette," he addressed though he stared in the direction of the kitchen. " _Mon amour adorée_ , please tell me I am hallucinating."

Babette's expression matched Lumière's as she replied with empathy, "I wish I could."

"Oh _Dieu_ ," he murmured, gently releasing Babette's hand before sprinting down the hall, his cooks also in pursuit with Mrs. Potts trailing behind.

"Dear Lord above," Cogsworth quietly pleaded to, his face in his hands. "The ball has hardly begun and everything is going wrong! What could be worse?" He managed to stop himself. "All right, all right, think _calm_ —deep breaths—think _positive._ Positive, positive, positive, positively, positively... the positively worst day… of my pitiable existence…"

Oddly enough, instead of despair, he felt defiance; if he was going to endure the worst day he had ever encountered, he was going to come out of it with some of his sanity still intact.

 _Hm!_ he had to admire. _Perhaps that sort of meditation was of some use after all._

Cogsworth followed Babette back into the ballroom, who discreetly went behind the royal couple to whisper in Belle's ear. The princess looked to the maid with alarm, though she fought to restrain it from the guests' eyes. He heard her quietly reply, "Is everyone all right?"

Babette smiled at her obvious concern and promised, "I am sure only the food was scathed, madame. Lumière and the rest are taking care of it as we speak."

"Thank you for letting me know," Belle expressed, and Babette gave a reverent nod before heading to the kitchens as well.

The scent of burnt food didn't dissipate quickly, but it didn't get any stronger. The problem must be in the process of getting solved. At least this was one the majordomo could avoid dealing with firsthand.

As the remaining nobles were greeting Adam and Belle, Cogsworth assessed the time on his pocket watch: six-forty-eight.

They were far off-schedule at this point. Ideally, between six-thirty and six-forty-five, all of the guests would be in the ballroom and the ruling monarch—in this case, Prince Adam—would be announcing the start of the ceremony and cue the maestro to—

"Maestro," Cogsworth remembered, scanning the bright and colorful crowd for a face he hadn't come across yet. "Where is Fife?"

He made his way around the clusters of their finely-dressed guests to get a proper glimpse of the orchestra. In their usual corner, a group of strings and woodwinds musicians were getting themselves organized, arranging their music on stands and tuning their respective instruments.

But there was no conductor.

"Oh, just _perfect,_ " Cogsworth spat with extreme chagrin. It was not as if he could simply ask about Fife's whereabouts and send a servant to fetch him. He must wait for someone _else_ to discover Fife's absence, something he not only didn't have the time for, but he no longer had the patience.

"This is poppycock," Cogsworth muttered, thinking of that blasted enchantress' fiendish exploits. "Do you hear me?" he cried at the ceiling. " _Poppycock!_ I demand to be made visible and audible at _once,_ you… you brazen, nefarious… _witch!_ "

As he ranted and raved to an invisible and most likely absent enchantress, Adam and Belle had made their way to the gargantuan Christmas tree where their thrones were set up on a carpeted platform two steps high. The Prince kept his back to the crowd, whispering to Belle and appearing hesitant.

Cogsworth recognized this once he had quieted his outbursts, and wasn't surprised. Public speaking was not the young Master's strong suit, but unless he was endowed with a natural-born talent to charm an audience, how could it? Save for his wedding, this was the largest congregation he had spoken in front of in his life. Without consistent practice, it was only logical that Adam would be afraid to speak to all of his higher class subjects at once.

Belle smiled and murmured some words of encouragement, rubbing his fingers with hers.

Adam mirrored her smile sincerely and squeezed her hands lovingly before facing the gathering. He stood straight and tall, with arms at his sides, and an expression of confident benevolence, just as he had been taught.

"Mesdames et messieurs, bonsoir, and Merry Christmas. Welcome to our home. I thank you all for joining our festivities this evening, festivities that are long since overdue. The tradition of the Christmas Eve ball began long before I was born, and I was only too eager to carry on that tradition when I came of age."

The majordomo had been beaming at the Prince's growth and maturity as he began his wonderful introductions before he suddenly felt a tingling sensation race through his whole body for a split second. Based on how it looked like Lumière had hurried from him, the maître d' must have walked right through Cogsworth. And that meant that cursed enchantress had ignored him. Again.

Cogsworth glared daggers at the ceiling.

"I hope," the Prince continued, "that this Christmas and those to come will be as fondly remembered as those from the past. So please, enjoy what we have to offer—"

" _Master_ ," Lumière hissed. To Cogsworth's despair, he had the apologetic look of someone with the misfortune of having to disclose bad news.

 _Wonderful,_ the majordomo thought with bitter sarcasm. _A rather superlative cherry to top such a beautiful disaster of an evening._

"—and let the ball begin," Adam concluded with a noble smile. He referred an arm to cue the orchestra, but as he watched them, the musicians began shaking their heads. Pointing to the spot before them, they shrugged at him.

The Prince faltered, sweeping his gaze back at his constituents as his uncertainty started to show. He looked to Belle.

"Master," Lumière called again, waving Adam over.

Adam glanced between him and his guests, awkwardly clearing his throat in the attentive silence, before stepping down the platform to become level with Lumière, bending his ear for him to whisper into it.

Though he wasn't able to be as discreet as Belle, Adam only showed a brief glimpse of horror at Lumière's words before resetting his expression to something more stoic, save for his widened blue eyes.

"I don't… What do I do until you find him?" the Prince whispered in earnest.

Lumière was trying not to appear as much at a loss, but answered as though it were obvious. "You must stall them."

"Stall them how?" Adam questioned pleadingly.

"I am confident you can think of something." Lumière mustered an assuring smile before his eyes flickered to Belle. "You are not alone." And with a pat behind the Prince's shoulder, Lumière strode around the edge of the ballroom to continue the search.

Looking abandoned, Adam seemed to purposely avoid making eye contact with any of the aristocrats, who were now shifting uncomfortably, and focused on Belle as he returned to her side on the platform.

Cogsworth watched the proceedings in nervous anticipation. Even if he had not been cursed with ghostly abilities that day, he wasn't sure how he would address the steadily fussing crowd. How did one excuse such lack of preparation and impropriety coming from his own staff, people that reflect his success or failure as a leader?

Then again, none of this would have happened if he hadn't been turned into the ghost of Christmas Eve.

"Excuse me… everyone," Adam shyly commanded, raising his hand for attention.

The nobility lowered their voices by a notch as he barreled on, "I apologize for the wait. It seems that our…" He cleared his throat again, beads of sweat blooming on his brow. "Well, what is a ball without music, and… what is an orchestra without a conductor. I am sure he will be here… very shortly. Until then, um…" He glanced at Belle to confirm, and she nodded. "My lovely wife, Princess Belle, has something she would like to share."

He stepped back to give her the floor as she took his place. Though she was only a country bumpkin in the critical eyes of some nobility, she had a natural, commanding presence that wasn't so easily ignored. And no one could deny she looked like royalty in her golden ball gown.

She fearlessly yet kindly met the eyes of many members of the audience.

"Good evening," Belle greeted with a polite incline of her head, "and what a pleasure it is to see so many familiar faces here tonight."

She gazed around the ballroom's splendor, from the tinsel-wrapped columns, to the wreath-covered crystal chandelier. "Many of you were probably able to witness the Christmas balls here some time ago, even if you were very young. For me, this is the very first time I am seeing the castle in the holiday spirit, and… I am in awe." She grinned, placing a hand at her heart. "Isn't it wonderful? And I know none of this would be possible without the staff of Château du Lac, who even now are very hard at work trying to make sure this night runs smoothly."

The princess pensively folded her hands at her waist, her smile becoming more obligatory. "There is one of our staff members, our majordomo, who we all know puts an extraordinary amount of effort and time into not only preparations for any events we host, but who, without him… this household would fall apart. Unfortunately, he couldn't be here this evening to celebrate his and his staff's accomplishments, but I wanted to make sure he and everyone who helped was recognized for such beautiful work."

Cogsworth found himself being brought to tears. The dear, sweet girl, who they all owed their very _lives_ , chose to speak highly of _him_ directly to a congregation of some of the most important people in France. As he looked around, the aristocrats were appearing rather touched, and he couldn't keep himself from beaming.

After a deep breath, Belle spoke more directly to the nobility, who were completely fixed on her words, and she gestured to the decorations. "For the end of another successful year, this is our gift from us to all of you. On the behalf of myself and Prince Adam, we cannot express enough our gratitude for all of your generosity in keeping this province safe and prospering. Thank you all so very much."

She began to applaud them, becoming a picture of pure sincerity. Adam felt compelled to follow her lead willingly, realizing it was only right though he might disagree with a few of those gathered there that night.

To the Prince's obvious surprise, the nobles steadily grew to a nice applause, definitely seeming to appreciate being congratulated for all that they did to make sure their portion of France didn't fall into ruin.

Cogsworth joined in, feeling that his mood had experienced a complete turn-around, his fear of insignificance evaporating into the merry, spirited air.

Scuffling was heard from behind, and upon a turn of the head, Cogsworth saw Fife struggling with the inside of his sleeve before he whipped his baton from his cuff. Jumping right in, the band flowed into the graceful opening of the minuet. Fife's conducting instantly lost all of his previous panic, gently waving his hands to the dance's rhythm.

Excitement spiked the audience as the music started. They parted as Belle took Adam's hand, descended the platform, and performed the opening waltz.

Cogsworth couldn't be more relieved. There was music, there was dancing, there was food, and all of the guests were happy. That was all he really asked for from a ball. Why was that so hard to accomplish in the first place?

 _Ah well,_ the majordomo decided to shrug. _C'est la vie… I suppose the French may have something right after all._

He glanced over to see Babette talking with a very flustered Angélique. Babette was smiling empathetically and trying to be reassuring while the decorator looked adamant about chastising herself.

Cogsworth sighed. _So romance has struck again._ Through a small parting in the crowd, from where he stood, he could see the royal couple dancing as if they were on a cloud. Both had a look in their eyes that made it seem like they were the only two in the entire world.

 _But if it hadn't struck at all…_

That was it then. He owed his life to love. Why on earth was he complaining about it?

The higher ranking nobles had joined the minuet, and a merry-go-round of couples was now spinning along the floor.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lumière approach the maid and decorator.

The maître d's gaze had been full of intention for Babette, but he then seemed to realize Angélique's distress. "Oh _ma chère_ , you are not still agonizing over this little incident, are you?" he asked the decorator.

Babette eyed him reproachfully. "We discussed this earlier, _chéri_ …" she mildly chastised in a melodious tone.

Lumière offered his hands in surrender, pursing his lips in compliance while Babette gave Angélique a well-deserved hug. "This is your night more than anyone else's, _mon amie_ ," the maid assured, pulling away to meet her eye. "You do not need permission to revel in it."

Angélique took a calming breath and smiled as she nodded. "You are more than right, as usual."

"At least you are not the first to commit a small lapse like this," Lumière added with a suggestive smirk.

Though she rolled her eyes, Angélique's smile stayed. "I know the true reason you came over here, and it was definitely not for my benefit." She waved them onward. "Go on; dance under the glow of my handiwork."

"We will," Lumière replied as if he were accepting an easy challenge. He intertwined his fingers with Babette's, looking adoringly at her as he continued, "With the utmost pleasure."

Babette glowed under his gaze, thoroughly caught in his stare as she followed him onto the floor.

The gears in Cogsworth's mind began to crank. He watched over the waltzing couples, spotting among them Mrs. Potts and Maurice, his wayward white hair combed and styled for the event.

All of the coupling that had occurred amongst the castle's inhabitants… They were not creating merely their own separate entities. They had formed an extended family that went deeper than blood relations, congealed into this tapestry of love and friendship.

And perhaps he wasn't this outlier that was disregarded and refused to be included. If anything, his exclusion was by his own hand.

Despite what he had always believed, his life here was much, much more than just a job. He had been through hell and back with everyone in this castle, _literally_ , and he alone had maintained a sense of normalcy when their lives were anything but. If that didn't solidify his importance here, what could?

He wasn't going anywhere. Where could he go? This shack by the sea he had envisioned, secluded and alone, with only the ocean's waves to incite conversation… As much as he had fancied the idea when stress and irritation at his staff had overwhelmed him, that wasn't going to make him happy.

This was his home. For good, and for the better.

 _Well, it seems I will be working until my dying day_.

A smile came to his lips, feeling content and at ease for the first time in a long while.


	5. And Afterwards

_Chapter Five: And Afterwards_

However at ease he felt about having finally resolved his inner turmoil, Cogsworth's contentedness did not last long. He desperately wanted to share in the spirit of the vibrant celebration that surrounded him, to partake in cheery banter with his colleagues and loved ones, but he was left to only observe while they enjoyed each other without him.

At about eight-thirty, as all were about to head to dinner, he decided that his situation was too depressing to continue standing on the sidelines. He had an adequate amount of confidence that the staff had reorganized everything in the kitchens. If not, he was sure the kitchen staff could steep the guests in enough wine and champagne for them not to notice anything lacking in taste.

He slowly made his way up to his quarters to turn in for the night, unavoidably gathering regrets along the way.

* * *

The dawn eased its way above the snow-topped pine trees and maples of the forest, and the castle's grounds sparkled under its light.

The majordomo slept on his side, facing the window as the sun's rays shined across the carpeted floor and his bed. Having maintained a built-in alarm that had been established even before his time as a mantel clock, he blinked his eyes open. He rolled over to stare drowsily at the canopy of his four-poster bed, a side of his mustache bent at an odd angle from his pillow.

He sat up, rubbed the extra sleep from his eyes, and slid out of bed, immediately fixing the covers like every other morning.

As he bathed and dressed for the day, glimpses of his dream started returning to him. He had been running around frantically during a ball, anything that could go wrong having happened, from burning food, to everyone being late. For a period, the orchestra couldn't even play their music. All the while, he hadn't been able to do a thing to prevent these disasters.

Cogsworth shivered at the thought as he adjusted his wig. He must have had too much brandy the night before.

That _is why I don't drink_ , he iterated to himself. _I never have these fear-inducing dreams otherwise._

Shaking off the remainder of the nightmare, he set out to begin his day. On the way to his office, he decided to check on the large parlor room the residents would be holding their own Christmas in to make sure their little tree and piles of presents were in place. At the double doors, he opened one only to peek inside, but he found a hearth ablaze, and...

Cogsworth furrowed his brow in confusion. "What are you all doing in here?"

On the chaises and armchairs arranged in a circle before the fireplace sat Master Adam, Belle, Maurice, Mrs. Potts, Chip, Lumière, and Babette. All at once, they sprung out of their seats, making Cogsworth jump at their perfect synchronization.

" _COGSWORTH!_ "

Before the majordomo knew what had hit him, they all bowled him over and caught him in a multi-armed hug that felt like a stranglehold.

"What… are you…" Cogsworth struggled for breath, his claustrophobia beginning to kick in. "Please… get… _off_."

The group relaxed and took a step or two back—not far enough for his taste—and stared at him, excited and wide-eyed, as they burst into a chorus of chatter.

"Oh, we were so worried!"

"Where have you _been?_ "

"I'm so glad you're all right!"

"It's good to see you safe, monsieur!"

"Without you, the ball was… oh _Dieu_ …"

"Tell us where you were, _mon ami_! We are all aching to know!"

"Did you _vanish_ or something?!"

They all chuckled at Chip's sincere question that made Cogsworth take pause. Now that he thought about, he had been invisible in his dream. Like a ghost.

Had that nightmare been… _real?_

Cogsworth felt himself pale. "The ball…?"

A few glanced at each other, a bit perplexed. "The… ball was last night," Lumière clarified, keeping a wary half-smile on his mouth in case the majordomo was kidding. "Did you happen to forget?"

At the expression of dread that crossed Cogsworth's features, Mrs. Potts came over to support him. "Let's get you a chair now."

She and Lumière guided him to the nearest armchair facing the fireplace as he stared blankly at the ground, trying to organize in his mind what had been real instead of imaginary, but he rejected the idea of such a prestigious event like the ball having gone by so _terribly_. This couldn't have happened. It just shouldn't have.

Cogsworth came out of his thoughts to find them all replaced in their seats, looking at him with concern. He had to confirm the truth, as afraid as he was to know.

"I… I'm sorry," he felt he had to say. "It seems I might have had a... most horrible twenty-four hours." He gazed at each of them. "I have… some questions."

Adam and Lumière exchanged glances. "Um… sure, Cogsworth," the Prince consented, gesturing for him to proceed. "Please."

Cogsworth straightened in his armchair. "Yesterday… was the Christmas Eve ball, correct?"

They nodded their heads, though some more hesitantly because of their own confusion at Cogsworth even asking such a question.

The majordomo took a deep breath, gripping the chair's arms briefly as he cleared his throat. "Could you… tell me what had occurred during it? Did it go well?"

There were a couple shrugs, some grimaces, and aversions of gazes from the rest.

"None of those are reassuring!" he berated, but he reigned in his growing frustration. "I would very much appreciate _detail_ , if you please."

Everyone's gazes flew from him to either each other, the fireplace, or the floor, all wearing varying expressions of embarrassment.

Mrs. Potts cleared her throat, having gathered the courage first. "Well, even though we had some hiccups in the beginning, the ball went very well, and I believe everyone really enjoyed themselves." All of them bobbed their heads in agreement.

"What were the 'hiccups' exactly?" Cogsworth questioned, not to be dissuaded.

After a moment of their silence, the majordomo gave up, becoming too impatient to wait for their replies. " _All_ right, I can see you are all too afraid to say a word." He heaved a huge sigh, hesitant to ask. "Did… Did we forget to assign valets?"

Collectively stunned, none didn't have a widened eye on him now. Taking this as ample confirmation, he rattled off the events he knew from his memory, becoming more frantic by the second. "And because there were less cooks in the kitchen, was the food burnt? And of course let's _not forget_ Fife was _late_ to cue the orchestra, having been off _philandering_ —"

" _Wait_ , wait, Cogsworth!" Adam called, coming out of his shock enough to speak. "How do you know everything that happened? You weren't there yesterday… were you?"

Losing his fumes, Cogsworth slumped in his chair with a groan, hiding his eyes with a hand. He slowly nodded, avoiding their eyes. "I regret to say I was, for every debacle."

But then it finally struck Cogsworth that he had truly been invisible for all of Christmas Eve, and that meant—

He straightened in his seat, a morose countenance snapping into one of awe. "All of you can see me!"

If the group hadn't been perplexed before, they all became epitomes of bewilderment.

Reacting to this with glee, Cogsworth grinned. "All of you can _hear_ me!" He released a giddy laugh. "This is wonderful! Oh thank goodness!" he cried with relief, finally relaxing.

Looking around at his friends, he found himself laughing again. "I'm very sorry, you must be so terribly confused. I will be more than happy to explain, although… in actuality, I cannot quite explain everything… My, where to begin…"

He seemed to make up his mind before turning to Mrs. Potts, pointing. "Ah, yes, Mrs. Potts, you had brought in my breakfast yesterday morning, and had left my office with my tea."

Lines embedded the housekeeper's brow as she processed this. "Ye—Yes, I did. But you weren't in your office."

Cogsworth found himself getting excited as he corrected, "Oh, but I _was!_ I was sitting at my desk, the entire time!"

Glancing at Lumière and Babette, he informed in a tone of mild chastisement, "And I happened to be walking by when you two were being… _you_ , in the dining room that afternoon. I had thought both of you were purposely ignoring me!"

The amazed, amorous couple looked at each other and tried to refrain from giggling as another recollection came to the majordomo. He snapped his fingers at it, referring to Adam and Belle next. "And—And I had come to you during your lunch because I had thought it was a ridiculous joke, no one acknowledging me, that is. And that is when I realized I had become an apparition. Yes, I was invisible, inaudible, and intangible, as it would seem. _Oh_ I was positively _livid!_ Magic must have been afoot, there is no question. But…"

It was there Cogsworth seemed at a loss. "I am not sure how it all had occurred. A mere day was all it was… and I was there, for _every_ little thing that went wrong and _oh_ I was just mortified—I _am_ mortified! We had seemed so prepared—you were all very prepared without my instruction, truly. I was most impressed."

Naturally, Lumière was capable of coming out of his amazement to quip, "Oh, this must be a Christmas miracle! If I am not mistaken, I do believe Cogsworth has just given us a compliment!"

As a few of them chuckled, Chip interjected with curiosity, "So you never left?"

Cogsworth turned from Lumière, whom he had looked about to scold, and replied, "Oh no, Chip, I couldn't ever leave during Christmas. I have to make sure everything goes smoothly, no matter what. That is my job, after all."

Adam rubbed the back of his neck, appearing embarrassed to ask, "Um… Cogsworth?"

"Yes, sire?" Cogsworth responded attentively.

The Prince started to look like he feared a reprimand. "How much of the ball did you see, exactly?"

Cogsworth smiled and soothed, "Quite enough to know what you are referring to. Might I assure that you handled the circumstances very well. Same to you, my lady," he addressed to Belle. "You spoke very lovely sentiments, and they did just the job."

Both royals looked relieved. Belle sighed as she grinned. "Thank you, Cogsworth. That really means the world, coming from you."

"It is the least I can do," Cogsworth promised, humbling. "Especially after your most gracious words of me."

Adam smiled at him. "We… really missed you last night."

"More than you will ever know," Babette annexed with a sly glance at Lumière, who suddenly felt the need to appear innocent.

Cogsworth felt his heart squeeze as he looked around at all of their sincere, loving faces. _I am_ not _going to get emotional, I have already embarrassed myself enough this holiday._

He took a deep breath to restrain any possible tears, and placed his hands on his knees before standing. "All right, since it _is_ Christmas, and given the peculiar events of yesterday…" He spread his arms a bit awkwardly, doing his best to be as nonchalant as possible. _I can't believe I'm doing this._ "Let us… top this off."

Cogsworth looked to have been addressing the floor, and everyone hesitated at his obscure proposal in either confusion or astonishment. Lumière overcame his pleasant surprise before anyone else, having to laugh at the majordomo's way of initiating a hug, as only he would do.

"You really are one-of-a-kind, _mon ami_ ," the maître d' complimented before bringing his friend into a brotherly embrace.

Mrs. Potts stood, grinning broadly. "We wouldn't have it any other way," she agreed before taking her turn.

Cogsworth felt arms encircle what they could of his waist as Chip collided with him and the housekeeper. The two adults glanced down at him as Mrs. Potts chuckled, and Cogsworth just realized how Chip had grown nearly a half foot since the curse had been broken.

They both moved aside as Babette gave him a hug, kissing his cheek in the process. Though he was a bit taken aback at this gesture, the maid's only reply was a nonchalant smirk and a wink.

Maurice then approached him. "I think I should apologize for that little…" He let out a laugh. "Well, you know."

Cogsworth found himself having to chuckle at the once mortifying memory. It seemed ages ago. "Perhaps I should be the one to apologize, monsieur. The lesson is learned: I will never forget to knock first, I can assure you."

"Oh, no trouble, no trouble!" Maurice offered his hand and Cogsworth gladly shook it. "I'm just glad to see you're all right!"

Belle quickly replaced him, pulling away from her embrace to say, "I don't know what we'd do without you here! It wouldn't be the same."

"It really wouldn't," Adam concurred, placing a hand on Cogsworth's shoulder. "I hope you know that you always have a home here, for as long as you'll have us."

"Oh, that is just the reassurance I need, sire," the majordomo sighed with relief. "Thank you."

He glanced around at the castle members surrounding him, and an assured feeling of gratitude and appreciation for them pulsed in his heart. No, he would not regret serving with and for his surrogate family until his dying day. Of that, he was now certain.

Cogsworth took a deep breath, ready to get back to business. "Well then, my good men, ladies, Master, Mistress," he addressed, straightening his waistcoat. "We have guests to accommodate and send on their merry ways. We can resume our own celebrations later." Everyone mutually agreed, nodding and smiling at him before proceeding to their respective duties.

Checking his pocket watch, Cogsworth almost instantaneously glared at the maître d'. " _Lumière_ —"

"The chefs have been preparing breakfast all the while, Cogsworth," Lumière interrupted calmly, but not without an eye roll. A few of their loved ones glanced back with humorous grins.

"Good," Cogsworth replied with a smile. "I expected nothing less."

"Really?" Lumière asked facetiously as they followed their friends. "You do not believe I will suddenly become incompetent after over twenty years of doing my job well?"

"Despite what you think, no, I don't." Cogsworth struggled to hide a smirk. "However, let us pray the kitchens are not burned to the ground before we arrive."

The maître d' eyed him sourly. "You are never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"And you will never let me forget that I was once a clock," the majordomo answered matter-of-factly. "Now we are even."

"What are talking about?" Lumière feigned, shaking his head as he lightly reprimanded, "Cogsworth, you really need to stop getting your gears in a twist over the little things. It really is unhealthy, getting as ticking mad as you do."

"Hmm, interesting," Cogsworth muttered, acting as though he hadn't heard his colleague.

Lumière bit. "What is?"

Like a sincere question, the majordomo asked, "Don't you think it the least bit ironic that you never burnt the food while you were a walking matchstick?"

A few belly laughs escaped Lumière. " _Mon ami_ , we are far from evening the score."

Cogsworth shrugged, wearing a smile of confidence. "I promise you we'll have plenty of time to settle it, Lumière. That, I know."

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _Not even finals could stop me from wrapping up this story in a nice little bow! (Pun definitely intended.) I really hope you enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it. I also hope I succeeded in showing growth in Cogsworth's character by putting him through an impossible test of wills. I think everyone needs to be reminded that they're loved and appreciated every once and a while, and isn't that what Christmas is all about?_

 _I know it's spring, and we are all craving/basking in the warm weather, but in the spirit of this Yuletide carol... Merry (belated) Christmas everyone!_


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